


a brief history of john laurens

by mqry



Series: the music of lightning and the flashes of thunder [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Birthday John Laurens, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, I Love You, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Musical References, Oops, a lot of sadness, fuck you henry, i meant to post this yesterday, my cinnamon roll john, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mqry/pseuds/mqry
Summary: As he fell from his saddle, the bullet wound lodged in his side, his life flashed before his eyes. He relived everything that he had ever done. Had he really done it because he wanted to?the one where i meant to post this yesterday but instead watched a lot of hamilton animatics





	a brief history of john laurens

When he was born, John Laurens never got to learn the warmth of his mother’s arms. Instead, he was held in the arms of a stranger. The arms of dark skin. And when he looked up to see who protected him from the outside world, John only saw warmth. He saw joy and he saw a true mother’s love. 

This, he thought, was his mother. This had to be. 

Instead of calling him ‘Mother’ as he thought, she told him to call her Lily-Anne. John only called her that in his parents’ presence. When they left, he called her as she truly was - his mother. 

His brothers weren’t given the same privilege as being raised by Lily-Anne. And so, they didn’t understand the pure joy that only his black mother would grant him. 

They stayed at home for a while. John studied at the house, learned of all different kinds of elements. Medicine intrigued him. It was his passion, Lily-Anne had said. He had always a deep burning in his chest to help others. 

When he was allowed to leave the house, John left to visit Francis. They met one burning summer day. And John let him take the lead. He followed him - he followed him and he loved him. The two were mere children in the world, full of mischievous ways. But it didn’t stop the burning passion between the two of them. They explored, they had fun, they fooled around. 

He was only a child. He knew only what his father had requested John to learn. 

With Francis, they learned the unbearable crunch of society. They learned of what was truly in store for them if they followed this path. 

Francis was carefree. He was joyful. He had not a single thought about consequences in the world. So, he did not heed society’s warning. Instead, he told John to continue playing. And they kept playing. 

But one day, Lily-Anne caught them. The two boys were in the Laurens household. Giggling, laughing, carefree. As boys should be. Lily-Anne was sent to search for John and was faced with the sight of the two of them fooling around. John had blushed, his face covered in shame and fear. 

Francis had laughed. Continued to giggle. Lily-Anne smiled and let them be. 

Afterwards, Lily-Anne warned John. She did not have a thing against him and Francis - but they had to be careful. If Henry or Eleanor were to find out -- if anyone were to find out…

John vowed to be careful. 

He had begun to wonder. If Francis and he could ever run away and they wouldn’t have to be prone to the weight of society. 

But the death of his “mother” happened. His father was grief-stricken. When John was sent to send his apologies for him, his father just stared at him. Under his gaze, John saw his eyes were calculating. They were studying him - thinking if only for a moment… 

He was sent to England to finish his studies along with his brothers and father. John didn’t want to leave his mother. He cried like a babe, was held in her arms until he ran out of tears. Lily-Anne held him through. 

He told Francis, his face blotchy and red. Francis was no longer smiling. He hadn’t laughed. But he held John’s hand. Kissed him softly and told him it would be alright. They would find their way if they were truly meant to be. That night, the two of them knew that their games were no longer games - but held feeling. Like an actor on a stage. They performed, a chorus of songs and symphonies and love. 

Later, he had told Lily-Anne of what happened. He couldn’t bear to keep secrets from her. Instead of her being rageful, she put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. John broke into tears again. His brothers did not understand the feeling that John felt. 

When he arrived in England, John explored the multiple adventures that the motherland had to offer. It was a dream - he had known nothing besides stories. And now, he was finally here. It was perfect. 

He finished his studies, and told his father he expressed great interest in the sciences and medicine. His father refused. A doctor’s job was not for the Laurens men. Instead, he told John to study law. It would bring pride to his family. And so John did. He had no choice. 

When at first he found joy and happiness in England, he found bitterness and longing in the present. He longed for his mother, he longed for Francis, he longed for his carefree ways at home. He longed for Eleanor; if she hadn’t died he wouldn’t be forced to go to England. 

When Jemmy died, John knew then that England would take too many things from him. But John knew - it was his fault. He was supposed to be there for his brother. Supposed to look after him. He was only ten years old, it wasn’t fair. 

And John wept. He wept again. He wept over the cold body of his younger brother - his brother who hadn’t deserved to die. Who hadn’t deserved any of the suffering that he was forced to face. And his father had yelled at him. Scolded him. It’s your fault. Your fault he is dead. 

Henry returned to South Carolina. He took the children with him but refused to let John return. He had to finish his studies. I don’t want to look at the face of the man who killed my son. Return when you have another identity. 

And John worked. He worked and worked and worked until he couldn’t work anymore. But his father. His father was always there in the back of his mind. So he refused to take a break. 

Until he met Martha. Martha was a mistake. But she was there when no one else was and he hoped that she could help him. She did. But she wasn’t a boy. 

But John couldn’t stay. He had to return to the colonies. He left Martha, pregnant. But, how could he banish her to such a fate? Forever told that she was nothing but… he couldn’t. He would never force such a fate onto even his worst enemy. And he married her. 

He married her in vain, married her for her. He had to. 

But he left England. He left for glory, for adventure. And if his flame for Francis had not yet extinguished, then it would burn brighter if they were to fight together. 

Yet, he never did fight alongside his old love. 

He met friends. Never before had Laurens had friends before. But they were kind. Hercules Mulligan was a tailor and knit him a pair of pants to welcome him into their group. Lafayette had kissed him on both cheeks, leaving the man flustered and confused. They did not laugh at him. They laughed with him. And John had never felt so welcomed since the fateful day that Lily-Anne held him in her arms. 

And he met with Alexander. Alexander Hamilton. 

And Alexander was a hurricane. He was not like Francis, in the depths of the night, giggling and playing games. He was swept away by such a force that he could barely contain himself. John felt himself drowning deeper and deeper and he couldn’t pull out. With gentle caresses and simple winks, John found himself in love. 

In love. He tried not to. Such a fate would destroy him. But his traitor heart left him broken. It left him in pain. 

Alexander was light. He was dark. He was love. He was hate. He was warmth. He was cold. He was perfect. He was absolutely perfect. 

They shared a tent. In the midst of the war, John and Alexander shared a tent. And they grew close. And when they shared a kiss, heavy breaths and cold nights - John knew that he wouldn’t trade anything in the world for it. 

And Alexander held him after nights of intimacy, nights of joy, nights of war. He held him through the nights, held his gaze during the day. It was perfect. 

But Lafayette had warned him. 

“You must be careful with that one. He will do what it takes to survive. Mon ami, I will be here for you no matter what - but please be careful.” 

He should’ve listened. Although Alexander flirted with him, although he claimed to love him, he knew that it was wrong. Alexander would not love. Alexander could not love. He couldn’t love somebody like him. And through that, John told him to get a wife. Someone that could do for him what he could not do. That could caress him in the public, that could declare their love for him with everyone watching. 

He begged him. He begged Alexander to move on before he would get even more hurt. He was broken, his pieces shattered - but every night Alexander kissed his pieces back together. 

In the end, John knew that was what hurt him most of all. That no matter what, Alexander stayed with him. 

And on the night of the Winter’s Ball, John tried to find what was so appealing about the women that Alexander and Burr lusted after. What did they have that he didn’t? He was with Lafayette when he saw her. 

He saw Elizabeth Schuyler. She was utterly helpless. In love with Alexander without even knowing him. And John knew. He knew at that moment - he would never be able to love Alexander. 

So again, he cried. He cried in Lafayette’s arms. Asked him why he was forced to be such a monster; why couldn’t he be normal? Against his own will, he had fallen in love with Alexander. He couldn’t go after him, fight for what he wanted. 

Why was he born like this? Why couldn’t he be born as a woman? Why did he have to be so disgusting, so horrible... 

And at their wedding, John held him his tears. Blamed his red face on the alcohol. Lafayette and Mulligan looked at him with understanding. But what did they understand? They didn’t have to face this torture. They were both married and they were actually in love with their wives but he was a disaster. 

He was not someone to love. 

So he took his anger out on those who deserved it. Fighting in wars, against the British. 

He shot Charles Lee, and he felt damn proud of it. It was his anger that had taken control of him. His hurt, his jealousy. 

Before the duel, Alexander had given him a kiss for good luck. John tried not to let it show how much it affected him. He felt all different kinds of emotions; happiness, sadness, anger, love… 

John smiled through the pain. 

The end of the war was nearing. And with the end of the war came the end of his life. 

He thought of Lily-Anne. Lily-Anne and the other slaves that were forced to work in his house, and how cruelly his father had treated them. He couldn’t bear to see that happen anymore. So he fashioned an all-black military regiment so he could grant freedom to those. And even if there was no more war to fight, John would make sure they gained liberty. For his mother. 

Alexander and he had talked about it. They worked against slavery, and John’s life revolved around it. He did everything he could. 

In the books, they will say it is his pride that made him fight. It was his pride that drove him to fight back. In truth, John fought back to rid himself of the pain. It was selfish, he knew. But it was better to die on the battlefield in glory than to be forced to living an emotionless life - a life that could never be fulfilled. He knew that Alexander would never fall in love with him the way he fell in love with him. 

But the slaves. John knew in his heart he had to free the slaves before he left. So he tried. He gave the fight all his might. But it was not enough. 

As he fell from his saddle, the bullet wound lodged in his side, his life flashed before his eyes. He relived everything that he had ever done. Had he really done it because he wanted to? 

And everyone that was ever in his life - his mother, his father, Lily-Anne, Jemmy, Francis, Lafayette, Mulligan, and…Alexander. He whispered those words he wrote so long ago. 

“Yours forever, my dear Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you if you stuck for this long! Hope you enjoyed it. Happy belated birthday, John Laurens!


End file.
